Unkown Love
by WeLoveAngst
Summary: Its hard to know what will happen in our lives. Quasimodo was still reeling over the loss of Esmerelda. What will happen when he meets a kind woman, that could heal his wounds and help him love again. Broken souls have a way of finding each other when they need to most...
1. Strangers

The air was chilled as autumn leaves softly rode the bitter Paris breeze. A small village rested peacefully through the early morn. Not a single voice or sound was heard aside from the swaying creaks of the tall dark oak trees that lined the village. Bells sounded tenderly from the mighty cathedral of Notre Dame. The grande structure was framed by the dull blue and bright reds of the budding morning sky. The air carried the faint scent of rainfall. Not a soul was awake except...

The mysterious bell ringer of Notre Dame. Quasimodo.

He had lived high in the bell tower for as long as the young man could remember, for he was seen as a man of darkness, all because of his unusual appearance. Not a single day went by without him being reminded of the monster that he was seen as. Quasimodo's late master, Frollo, reviled him as so. The bedeviled man never allowed Quasimodo to leave but… Frollo was gone now. The secluded man was cursed with a hunched back and a deformed face. His left brow bone sat crooked and swollen which gave his features a lopsided look. However, he was especially strong and well toned after twenty years of ringing the proud, massive, iron bells of Notre Dame.

The large loft he occupied was nestled tightly within the proud cathedral walls. All sorts of nick nacks and intricacies littered the whole abode. The man had awakened not long ago from… yet another nightmare.

The fire.

Her face.

He simply could not get those ghastly images out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He wondered why the Lord had forsaken him so. In a groggy stupor, the bell ringer found his way to one of the many cathedral balconies. His misshapen face was illuminated by the luscious sunrise. The worn man held a forlorn expression. The silence was more than deafening. A feeble ringing filled his fatigued ears. There was nothing he would not give to not stir awake, night after night, alone in his desolate home.

The hunchback rested his large arms heavily on the balcony rail as if it were his only support system. His short stature was further exaggerated by his slouched position. His hunch protruded even more so from his lackluster posture. The calm wind ruffled his wavy ginger hair gently. His lips held a thin line that only deepened by the second. His mind was constantly tormented day in and day out by his horrid memories. The thought that tortured him today was,

'Why?'

Why had she been taken from him? After Quasimodo's unrequited love, Esmeralda, was burned at the stake by the hands of his late master, the hunchbacks already damaged heart was destroyed. Frollo was horrible to Quasimodo but even still, he mourned Frollo's death nonetheless. Not only had he lost everything he had ever loved, the town's people still did not accept him. And all because of the body and face he was born with. Did they not themselves have flaws? Were they not as human as him or anyone else? No matter if he pondered these thoughts until his brain ached, he would never know the true answers.

The bell ringer sat in silence for what felt like hours but, the sun looked to have not risen any further. His throbbing head fell into his large calloused hands. He was working himself to death. He was sure he had not received a full night's rest in months. Deep purple bags clung under his half lidded eyes. A full night's rest was foreign to him at this point. A heavy sigh escaped his tired form. He noted that soon he would have to ring the bells to signify the starting of the day.

The lonesome man rose ever so slowly, using his powerful arms to support his weight. His aching back cracked with every inch he rose until he was at his full height again. Even then, his stature was still small. As he was about to turn back inside into the warm loft, he looked back over his shoulder to glance over the city for a moment.

His mind was rushed by the memory of the buildings being engulfed by fire as smoke swirled the dark sky. He grimaced, tearing his terrified eyes away from the alarming image. His shaking hands found their way to the top of his pounding head. He breathed scattered heavy breaths while his large eyes gazed at the floor. The alarmed man blinked rapidly, trying desperately to clear his head of that horrid memory. He slid his hands down his face, clutching his soft green tunic. He breathed in.. out… in… out… but his exasperated lungs could not get enough air. Esmeralda's death haunted him daily and nightly as dreadful scenes of that horrid night consumed him. The flashing images only had gotten worse through the long months.

His eyes were pierced by the rising sunlight. He knew he would have to ring the bells soon. He shook his head wildly to rid himself of those startling thoughts as he sluggishly walked to the bell section of the cathedral. Maybe a distraction would help him forget those memories. After all, no matter what his troubles were, he was still the bell ringer of Notre Dame. All these thoughts of his unrequited love reminded him of an important detail. Quasimodo always brought a flower to her unmarked grave. He made a quick mental note to head to the market later in the day.

A young woman laid asleep in her small bed. She was covered head to toe in bedding as she slept soundly while her mind danced with pleasant thoughts and dreams. The calming but, arising melody of the bells of Notre Dame had begun to slowly awaken her from her wistful slumber. Her rested eyes fluttered open as they peered through her bedside window. The sky was shifting from a soft navy blue hue to a more warm shade of pinks and reds. She inhaled deeply, the scent of freshly baked bread filling her small nose. She curled the bedding closer to her slender frame as she sat up without a trace of sleepiness.

She looked back to the window to find the sight of Notre Dame in the distance. The proud cathedral looked as if it were glowing. The beautiful sky only helped to create that glow. The bells rang with such sweetness she swore angles themselves were singing.

The world the Lord has created was truly something.

She slipped out of her warm bed and gave a long stretch. The newly awakened woman made her way to her small closet in the corner of her room to get dressed for the day. As much as she would have loved to stay in bed and listen to the bells, she had flowers to sell, what, with her being a florist and all. She loved fauna and flora ever since she was just a small school girl.

She threw on a white dress with a pink blouse which matched the fringe at the bottom of her skirt. She stumbled over to her shoe chest and grabbed a plain pair of scuffed black flats. She hastily tied her mess of marron curls in a loose bun. The breeze swept through the window, tousling her dress.

Something was missing… Hair up… dressed… Oh! Know she remembered! She looked to her small bedside table that definitely needed a new leg or two. On the chipped surface laid a worn, baby blue handkerchief. The morning light that streamed through the daunting oak trees and into the modest room made the small cloth look grey in the dim lighting. With a swift motion, she scooped up the precious cloth and tied it around her wrist haphazardly. When she was finally sure she had everything taken care of, the fair-skinned woman made her way quickly to the entry door. The carefree girl skipped down her cobblestone steps and greeted her horse. The mighty stallion stood in a small stable right next to her humble abode. The hasty girl lead him out to the side of the stable where her small but, sturdy flower carte sat. She hitched her proud horse to the carte with a swift motion. She gingerly grabbed the stallion's bridle and begun her brisk journey to the bustling market. It may have been peaceful and quiet now, but soon the town square would be filled with more bodies than she could count. She walked in blissful silence as the bells sang wistfully to her ears.

* * * .

The bells had long ago stopped ringing, a sign she needed to hurry.

"Come on, Victor. We will be late at this rate!" She tugged the bridle a tad while her horse made a protesting whinny. Soon, they both made it to the marketplace in a reasonable amount of time. The red-haired woman quickly unloaded the cart into her flower stand. She huffed a relieved sigh as she placed down the last pot of flowers. Her horse stomped irritably, wanting to be unhitched from the cart to stretch his legs. "Alright, Alright," a giggle escaped her full lips at how expressive he could be at times. "Hold your horses." Victor simply scuffed a hoof against the cobblestone road in disapproval. She knew he did not like her jokes much. "Hey, that joke was funny Victor, and you know it."

Her horse simply laid his pointed ears down in annoyance while the amused girl unhitched the jumpy horse. He never wandered too far but, he was the mischievous type. On numerous occasions, a fruit cart owner would march over angrily to her, for her horse had stolen an apple from the unhappy man's cart. Victor began to trot off but, she would not let him go just yet. "And no stealing, Victor!' The young florist warned him. A hint of amusement danced behind her serious tone. He huffed as he turned to walk off without a second glance. She giggled to herself as she had begun to busy herself with her duties. She flipped her sign from "closed" to "open" with the phrase "Rena's flowers" inscribed into the wood sign. Rena rose to her tiptoes to hang the sign above her stand. She dusted her dress off while she walked back behind her stand to start her workday.

The square was soon filled with pleasant sounds and smells, from bakers to laughter that arose from patrons entering the square. Most of the day was almost fairly normal.

Almost.

She was visited by several familiar faces but, some new as well. She always made it a point to make her customers laugh which, she was quite good at. After she had attended to her most recent customers, she had begun to hear talk and murmurs from the people around her. The main topic?

The Hunchback.

The fair-skinned woman furrowed her thin eyebrows, her mind wandering. The florist had heard many things about the mysterious man in question. Somethings good, but most… were not. The topic made her uneasy so, she tried to avoid that point of conversation as much as possible. Something inside her did not feel right talking atrociously about someone she did not know or had never met. She had heard talk like this almost every day after… the fire. As much as the topic unnerved her, she could not help but think about it from time to time. Thought out her long day, her ears picked up many things related to the bell ringer in question.

"He's nothing but a devil!"

"Oh, the boy wouldn't hurt a fly"

"It's only a matter of time before the demon himself hurts another soul."

All these differentiating thoughts swirled her tired head. She sighed as she rested against her stand.

Was he really a monster like everyone said? Who was he? Why had she never seen him before? She took a curl in her finger to twirl while she pondered these odd thoughts. She sat in silence as her mind entertained these unusual questions.

"Uh- e- excuse me?" A tenor-like voice pulled her drifting mind back to earth. Her eyes soon landed on the figure who belonged to the voice. It was odd. Well, rather, he was odd. The presumably young man that stood before her sounded no older than twenty but, he appeared to be hunched over and rather short for a grown man. In height, she had half a foot over him in comparison. His form was adorned with a black hooded cloak which obscured his face and most of his frame. Her eyes fluttered for a moment.

"O-oh! I'm sorry sir, " she laughed nervously "I was just lost in thought for a moment, how may I help you?" Rena leaned into her cart slightly to seem more attentive but, to also get a better look. The man wrang his hands in front of him as if he were nervous.

"I-I-I was looking for a certain type of flower, a-and I thought this was the best place to go." The nervous man stammered over his words, his hands still wringing in front of him. She tried to stifle a giggle from observing his odd behavior. The strange man was endearing to her. The intrigued woman clapped her hands together in excitement. He jumped a bit at the sudden noise.

"Well sir, what are you looking for?" She smiled sweetly, her loose curls falling beside her face. She could not see much of him but, she did notice his already large eyes widen. His lips parted as if to say something however, it took him a moment.

"L- Lilies." Speaking only one word, he took a step forward hesitantly. Her smile grew greatly. It was her favorite flower.

"Well of course!" Rena smirked, "for anyone special?" She enquired playfully. The cloaked man's whole demeanor changed.

"N- no! I j-just uh," the wringing of his large hands only worsened. She knew if she could see the mysterious man, he would be blushing a deep cherry red. She had to have a little fun at work from time to time. She chuckled under her breath while she searched for the breed of flower the cloaked man was looking for.

"How many?" She pried kindly.

"Just one." Only one? Strange. She looked through her collection of lilies to find the best one. When she finally found it, she delicately plucked the beautiful thing from its pot. The flower was the whitest of the collection with the fullest petals. The mirthful woman leaned over the stand, sticking her arm over to give the flower to the young man. He was reaching into a pocket as if to give her money for the flower. For some strange reason, something came over her.

"No no!' She waved a dismissing hand "No need. It's free of charge." Her actions were definitely odd for her today. As kind and caring as she was, she rarely ever gave away flowers for free, especially with so much competition around.

She had not realized it yet but, the sun had begun to set behind her. There were hardly any people out and all the other shop owners had left. Actually, she noticed, no one was in the square anymore. Not a single body. It was only the two of them. The soft pink light from the setting sun danced across the streets tenderly. The smell of pastries still lingered in the cool air.

Suddenly, a wild gust of wind blew through the two. Without any warning, the man's hood was harshly ripped from off his head by the brutal wind. For a moment the sudden wind startled her, her eyes snapping shut. After a moment, she regained her composure as she fluttered her watery orbs.

"Well, isn't that just the strangest thing!" Her eyes were still slightly unfocused, "Not a single gust of wind all day and then-" Her breath hauled as his form finally camel back into view. Rena could not believe her eyes. Her grasp around the flower stiffened as she gazed upon the figure before her.

The hunchback.

It was him.

Quasimodo.

With a clear view of him, she could see the terror rise within him from being exposed. Her unblinking eyes ran up and down his unusual form. His large eyes looked to anywhere but her in a panic. His large toned forelimbs flew over his head to try to mask his face and form from Rena. His large arms shook violently. He was truly terrified. She swore she could hear him whimper. For many moments, she simply stared at him in utter shock. She felt heavy as her feet remained firmly cemented into the cobblestone floor. A wave of sympathy and quilt racked through her body as she looked upon him. This man was no monster. He was a person, a human being. And this man had lived through a world of hurt and anguish his entire life but, she was not about to continue that scorn.

"Hey.." Her voice was low and softer than silk as she looked upon his face without fear or disdain. The nervous man's deep blue eyes meet her sparkling emerald green ones. His shining eyes were filled with dismay and dread. His arms dropped slightly in hesitation. "It's alright. You don't have to be afraid…" His wide glazed eyes blinked rapidly as if he were processing her unexpected words. He looked more than shocked by her kind reaction. His breath hitched as he brought his arms down but of course, his hands found their way to rest in front of him. "Here, I believe you were wanting a flower?" The maroon haired woman enquired sweetly as she cocked her head to the side in a friendly fashion. She noted at how blue his eyes really were, like the sky itself.

He was too nervous to eye her for long. His round eyes darted from her, to the stone floor. However, the glances Quasimodo did see of her were.. Really something. She was gorgeous. The pink sunset framed her beautifully which only made her look that much more beautiful

He hesitantly lifted his slightly shaking hand to hers. After a moment, he finally met her much smaller hand. He cautiously held the stem of the flower in his palm. Their fingers brushed slightly from the interaction. Neither had expected the sudden touch between them. They pulled back into themselves quickly. The blue-eyed man glanced from her to ground, parting his lips to speak.

"T-thank y-you.." She smiled kindly down at him while she brought her arm to rest back on the stand.

"Anytime," something else came over her as well that day "and hey, if you ever come around the market again sometime, don't you ever feel afraid to come by or say hello. You are more than welcome." She really was pulling all the stops today, wasn't she? His face held a dumbfounded expression. All his life he was judged for what he looked like but, this woman had not. This beautiful, compassionate woman, had looked upon him as if he were really normal, like everyone else. A warm feeling rested in his heart as he gazed back at her. Her smile was contagious. He simply nodded to her. A hesitant smile played on his features. "Oh, and my name is Rena," she glanced up at her sign that held her name proudly on its wood frame, "but, you might have already known that." She gave a fast wink. She could actually see him blushing this time. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly as his smile caught her by surprise. He really did look better when he smiled.

"I-i'm Quasimodo." His voice was only above a whisper. She had always pondered if his name was truly what everyone said it was. Even with the confirmation, the young woman had a hard time believing someone could be named something so cruel. As time passed, the overwhelmed man was finding it easier to look upon her for longer lengths of time.

'What a guy.' Rena thought to herself in amusement. She deepened her lean over her stand, her eyes never leaving him. A gentle breeze flowed through the air. It felt warm and inviting.

"That is a beautiful name." The surprised man blinked hard and fast as his blush crept further over his plump cheeks. His hand crept its way to his cheek to rest over his blush as he tried to hide his elatedness. The word "beautiful" had hardly ever been directed towards him for… obvious reasons. He was scorned as a creature of darkness. But, for some strange reason, this woman did not see him as so. His heart was hammering in his broad chest. He was afraid she could hear it. He took a hitched breath as he stared back at her. No matter how long he gazed at her, the blushing young man could not find a single strand of distaste or fear in her brilliant green eyes.

"Well, u-uh, thank you.." His head was spinning from all the blood that was rushing to his cheeks. He really needed a moment. "I will uh, be going n-now" He stepped back but, was tripped by his cloak. "Oh uh, I will uh, see you- maybe- or um- bye!" Rena held back a gasp as she watched the endearing young man stumble over not only his words, but himself as well. She pressed her cheek into her palm, an affectionate smile sneaked its way onto her face. He flipped his hood back over his head as he began to make his journey back home, all the while clutching the flower softly in his hand. She could have sworn he looked back at her.

'What a day..' He thought to himself excitedly.

'What a day' unknown to him, the fluttered woman had the same thought.


	2. Curiosity

The daunting cathedral exuded a sort of intimidating aura as Quasimodo approached the greyed structure. Each tower was illuminated by the now fully risen sun as light flowed over the newly awakened city. The cool hues from before had long ago faded to a more warm and bright color. It was strange how the building could still look so formidable in this light. The hunched man gazed up to the many brightly colored windows. His worn hand slipped out from his soft cloak to tug on the dark fabric. Everytime he stood on the cathedral steps, like he was now, a certain uneasiness always filled his great chest. He rose a shaky hand to one of his tired eyes and rubbed slowly over the rough surface of his skin. A scattered sigh managed to escape his cracked lips. His hand moved to his neck, the hood of his cloak rolling down over his broad shoulders. He lazily circled his head to glance down at the delicate flower. The small thing laid calmly in his large hand. In the soft lighting, the plant's colors looked more lucious and bright.

The thought of the young, beautiful, woman he met in the earlier morning flashed in his vivid memory. The recollection of her bright smile danced in the back of his mind. If he focused long enough, he could hear her laugh as if she were right next to him. Well, he had a good idea of her laugh at the very least. It was hard to have a clear idea with his deafness. Being the bell ringer was simply an occupational hazard. The bells were just as beautiful as they were loud. It was a good thing he did not need his hearing to be able to see the beautiful picture that was Rena. The memory of her almost resembled that of a painting as the warm pinks of the early sun rise danced through her hair. Her smile had laced over her face with such a sweetness, he was sure no other held such a smile. A sudden and sharp pain thrashed through his heart. He felt.. Wrong, or more so, what he was feeling was wrong. It had to be.

'Quasimodo, as time ever passes, the seductions of women will never die.' His heart tremenored within him as his late masters menacing voice clouded his thoughts. 'Remember, they are nothing but temptresses to stray the righteous man away from the path of heaven.' The memory of Frollo's voice was clouded but, the red haired man could still recall his daunting master's cold stare. Frollo instilled Quasimodo at a young age to be wary of women, to never trust them but, no matter how hard Quasimodo tried to believe his master, after Esmeralda had entered his life, he simply could not. How could it be true.

Esmeralda.

Rena.

How could both of them have been mistresses of darkness. True, Esmeralda caused Quasimodo to defy his master and intern, lead to the ravaging of the city but, in the end, Quasimodo was freed. His world would never be the same. The way he saw the world was no longer confined to the small bell tower he lived in. The world had become bigger and brighter because of Esmeralda. For some strange reason, if he was given the chance to turn back time, he would do it all over again. Those thoughts alone terrified him. As much as his heart ached for Esmerelda to return to him, his hazy dream could never come to fruition. There simply was, and could never be, a cure for death.

Rena's serene eyes drenched his memory. He never would have imagined another woman could invoke these old forgotten feelings yet, here he was broken, scarred, and beaten but still feeling. Of course these feelings were new, but they still held a familiar yet foreign sense to them, like a distant fond memory. However, something inside him still fought against it. These feelings were light and breathless but, underneath it all, there was something dark stirring within him, that "wrong" feeling. Not only did he feel "wrong," but a snake like voice sat in the back of his mind. It taunted him.

'You honestly think that flower girl really saw past your unfortunate appearance?' It laughed at him.

'You are still soooo pathetic. You haven't learned your lesson at all!' These intrusive thoughts left him speechless and pondering. The flower in his hand was almost forgotten as his hold loosened. His round eyes were left unblinking, his breath hitching in his throat. 'Oh! And what would… Esmeralda say?' A heavy hand found its way back to his face. He tightly snapped his tired eyes shut in an attempt to block out the voice. The mocking tone was laced with amusement and judgment. Unfortunately, he was awfully familiar with the tone.

'Did you really love Esmeralda at all? From what it looks like, you've already moved on from one woman to the next..'

"No!" His cracking voice erupted from him as though it would be the silencer to the voice in his head. His shallow breathing only worsened as time passed. "Y-you're… you're w-wrong. I I-I'm… haa.." He buried his head in his large hands, pieces of ginger locks sticky every which way as they tangled his fingers. The flower fell to the cement staircase as the soft breeze carried the feeble thing to the ground. The petals bent, connecting with the cool ground. The poor man was hysterical at this point. His lungs burned as the biting air thrashed in and out of him at a speed he could not slow down for the life of him. The thundering of his heart numbed his chest. He was sure slick tears would slip from his eyes at any moment. He tried in vain to fight down the salty liquid. After a moment of deafening silence, the voice had finally ceased tormenting him. The only thing his damaged ears heard now was the wind flowing around his trembling body. His head remained pressed into his hands. His lungs had calmed slightly, the burning feeling subsiding.

"I- I- l-loved h-her…" His tenor-like voice dropped lower than he was used to. This was wrong. It had to be wrong. How could he look at another woman like that? 'What would Esmeralda say?...' This time, the internal voice was his own. The question swirled his throbbing head. As the silence around him thickened, an abrupt bitterness seeped into his stomach.

Phoebus.

Phoebus was the reason Esmeralda did not return Quasimodo's affections. "If only…" he peeked an eye through his fingers. "If she had stayed…" A lump in his throat had formed as his breath stuttered. "No.." He shook his head violently as he immediately dismissed those incriminating thoughts. He could not, would not, blame someone else for something they were not responsible for. He mumbled a quick prayer as he brought his trembling hands down in front of him. His glazed looked to the delicate flower. With a sigh, he knelt down to the small thing and gingerly picked it up, resting it in his palm. He stared at the lily with thoughtful eyes. His thoughts wandered to Rena for a moment upon looking at the flower. He closed his strained eyes, pressing the flower to his chest. The memories of the day swirled in his mind. He was confused, and utterly lost but, something good came out of it. He rose back to his fatigued feet, still holding the plant to his vast chest. He onced over the mighty cathedral doors one more time, before tugging on one of the sturdy handles, and disappearing into the dark.

Odd. Odd was the only word the young woman could use to describe the multitude of occurrences that had transpired. She held the bridled of her proud horse loosely in her fair hands as she walked silently down the cobblestone road. She took a marron curl in her finger to twirl as she thought through the events of her "odd" day. The day had been so... so… She could not find a word to describe it. What was even stranger, was it was not particularly a bad thing. The sun had begun setting behind her, the trees taking on a more darker look. The air still felt cool, the breeze brushing over her smooth skin. Her small feet felt tired from all the standing and walking she had done. Her gaze shifted to the vast sky above her. The setting sun's rays had not yet touched her corner of land, the sky still holding a light blue hue to it. The sky's color reminded her of something or rather, someone.

The man's wary eyes from before flooded her thoughts. Her breath stifled as her mind wandered to him unexpectedly.

"Quasimodo…" his name left her lips without any thought which surprised her. He was honestly the strangest but also the sweetest man she had ever met. A certain tender aura had surrounded him as if he had never been exposed to the evils of the world. Never in a million years did she think she would meet him. She could not stop thinking about his eyes. They were round, and brimming with wonder. The hues that flowed in his eyes were the most beautiful blue she had ever seen. As shocking as his appearance was, she could sense he had no malicious intent. He really was not the "monster" everyone made the poor man out to be but, something inside her still harbored a twinge of caution towards him. She despised the feeling. She knew it was her warriness talking from all the terrible stories she was told about him.

Before she knew it, she was home again. The morning had gone by so fast. She was still reeling from everything. Victor gave her a light nudge with his massive head as he huffed what seemed to be a worried sigh. Her thoughtful eyes glanced up to him. She patted his muscular neck, leading him back to the small stable beside her humble home. She did a quick check of his stable, making sure he had food and water. With her slender arms, she lugged the flower carte to the side of the stable as a thud sounded from the sudden drop of the heavy carte. She huffed as she dusted off her slightly dirtied dress. The wind picked up without warning, her massive curls fly into her face. She did her best to tuck her wild hair back into place. She had not realized her bun had come down throughout the day. As she placed the last pieces of hair back into place, her eye caught the sight of the mighty cathedral that stood in the distance. Her hand stayed by her ear as she stared at the proud structure. He lived there. Quasimodo. She was told by locals the hunchback had lived up there his entire life. She tried to picture what it was like up there, what it must be like to live in the vast cathedral all alone. A pang of sympathy ran through her by the thought of him being alone his whole life. A thought crossed her mind. What if she visited him.

"No, I couldn't…" She put her hand over her mouth as she tried to silence her thoughts. "I could though… but, what would I say?" She began to pace a small line back and forth in front of the stable. Her horse flicked his ears from the sound of her mumbling. She had a habit of doing so when she was nervous or thinking. Her pacing was not fast but rather a leisurely stroll. "For God sake, I just met the man!" She threw her hands out, gesturing to no one in particular. She let out a heavy sigh as she stopped dead in her tracks, shifting her weight to rest on her left leg. She crossed her arms below her hammering heart. She could not believe she was entertaining the thought. She put her hand back over her mouth, her eyes glanced over to Victor who stood in his stable. "What do you think…" the only response she received from him was a heavy huff and a flick of his ear. She in turn sighed as well. She tugged on the handkerchief on her wrist lightly. "Oooo, I can't believe I'm doing this!" She rushed inside her home, throwing the door open. A silky red hooded cloak hung on one of her bed posts. She hastily grabbed it and draped it over her shoulders. She skipped down her cobblestone steps for the second time that day. She flipped the hood over her head swiftly. Her gaze peered through the hooded cloth, her eyes landing on the cathedral. "I really am a stupid woman." Her legs moved at a brisk pace as she made her journey to the cathedral. The shadows from the fully risen sun followed her.


	3. That Pulling Feeling

Everything was laced with the biting feeling of cold. The bitter air hung in the vast nave of the cathedral. Long, dark, shadows slinked along the tall walls from the many candles throughout the room. Down the middle of the nave, a long aisle was aligned with the waxy objects as the dim light touched the ceiling. The pews had been long ago cleared away, for evening mass had already concluded. To the front of the nave, statues of the virgin mary and God's angels stood still against the walls. The angels surrounded her marble form, as if protecting her from any harm. Quasimodo stood in front of the newly closed door. His aching bones were still shaking from what had transpired moments ago yet, the moment had felt like it had lasted for hours. His cloak clung to his body uncomfortably. The worn black cloth felt heavy, his body feeling fatigued and weak. The candlelight danced over his strange form. The jittery light made the shadows cast by his body look even more monstrous than he truly was. He stood silently in the nave for as the seconds turned to minutes, the quietness around him thickening. He took a heavy hand and drug it down his face as he tried to rid himself of his anxiousness. This was… his home. Colorful stained glass windows littered almost every wall within the church. Sunbeams floated through the complex works of art. Some depicted well known righteous stories of heaven while some images had shown the evils of hell. With a slight limp, the drained man moved forward down the aisle at a slow pace. Everything around him loomed over him. He moved through the building aimlessly. Each candle light fluttered in the corner of his eye as they flickered widely. All the poor man wanted now was to climb his tower, and stay there for the rest of the night. If he had one more stressing or terrifying thought, the lonesome man would surely burst.

As his pace slowed, one of the candle lights half illuminated a quant door to the left of him. The closed passageway sat snug within the walls of the church however, small cracks from constant slamming had formed over the many long years. It was an odd looking thing. Everything in this house of God was imcualant and grand but, the door looked out of place among everything else. The only thing blocking him from his drafty home was this door, and the spiral staircase that lied beyond it. The flaring candle light splashed his face in a sideways fashion, masking the "deformed" side of his features. One could say, he almost looked "normal." The attentive man scanned the door with a wary look in his eye. He nervously tugged on his hood. For a moment, he felt as though he should turn back. Making the journey up into his quiet home was becoming harder and harder each day. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to disappear into the darkest corners of his abode and hide but then again, the loneliness was killing him. With a heavy sigh, and a run of his ginger hair with his hand, he grabbed the damaged door knob lightly. For a moment, he let his fingertips slip down the face of the chipped knob. The low crackling of the candles was only slight background noise but to Quasimodo, it was almost too loud for him to handle. This was odd for him, he was practically deaf after all. Perhaps it was less about the noise but, more so the heat. The radiating warmth hit him like a heavy blanket. It was quite impressive how such small lights could carry such warmth. The moments passed by him slowly as he stood staring at the small handle. Everything was still. He was still.

'Pop!'

A sudden crack from a nearby candle light startled him greatly. The waves of sharp alarm hit him fast and hard. The abrupt but small sound had caused him to withdraw his shaken hand back into himself once more. Well, that was one way to be brought back to earth. His hand, at the moment into a fist, unfurled to clutch his chest. The soft fabric of his shirt tangled within his calloused fingers. Quasimodo had been easily startled throughout most of his life but recently, his jumpiness seemed worse. His hammering heart had just begun to slow down when he was able to take a full breath again.

He let his heavy head rest on his heaving chest. He took in a long shaky breath. One . Two. Three. Then back out. One. Two. Three. Four. He hadn't realized it but, he had closed his eyes while doing so, the flickering of the lights still present. After moment, he rose a hand back to the door knob, this time with less hesitation. The slightly rusted paint brushed against his skin. A gust of air pushed the dancing lights in such a way, the whole door was a light. And with the new light, his eyes could now see the lock below the handle. One of the many, many, many reasons he was confined to the bell tower was not just his late master, but this lock as well. His face contorted into a grimace as he shut his eyes tightly, turning the handle, and pushing the heavy door open with a swift motion. Without looking back, he dashed up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. The flaring lights had settled just after the startled man had left and with the calming of the warm candle lights, the lock disappeared into the darkness once more.

She was not doing this. She was not doing this. She. Was. Not. Doing. This.

Surprise! She was.

Rena had no idea how she had talked herself into this. She huffed as she pushed her hood down, running her slim finger through her hair. She tugged the silky red cloak tighter around her as she walked at a brisk pace. Why? Why was she so stupid. The tall dark oak trees had fallen away behind her not too long ago. Her home sat farther away than most did from the central square of the city, hidden behind the trees. She wished she could retreat back into the thicket of her protective forest but, her stubborn legs would not let her. What had gotten into her? She wished should could tell herself. The brisk autumn air feet warmer than usual. Although, it could be just the blood rushing to her cheeks. She walked along the dirt trail she was all too familiar with. She had walked this path everyday for years. She was surrounded by the swaying of wheat plants. The smallest of flowers still lingered before the bitter winter. The thicket of the forest had faded into a cobblestone trail, indicating she would entering the square soon. The abnormally lively young woman's feet felt less tired and lighter as she walked. Oh, this was stupid.

A flash of red passed her face in a blurr. She squeaked from the sudden sight, halting in her tracks. With a few blinks, and a brush of her hair, she looked up to find the fluttering of a bird. A small one at that. The little thing was painted red like the setting sun of a summer day. The sky was a perfect backdrop. The baby blue of the atmosphere made the little birds color pop with intensity. The singing bird glided and swooshed about her view as it sang a sweet unknown song, She giggled at the sight of the playful robin. She was glad she did not lose her footing which, she almost did in fact lose.

"Well, aren't you just the most handsome thing!" She let her amused eyes follow him as she brought her arms to clasp in front of her. He chirped a trill of notes in response. With a final twirl, he flew off into heavens knows where. Her new friend swirled the sky gracefully over the calm breeze. Her gaze followed the radiant bird intently as she began to walk again. The rooftops of the city soon came into her line of sight. Her thoughts warned her of something. What would people say if they saw her walking into the cathedral? Mass had long ago concluded and there were no confession services offered that day. As much as she liked to believe people would think she was just "visiting the house of god to reconnect with the man himself," people talked, so everyone knew Rena was not the most religious gal around. As she was pondering her swirling thoughts, a sudden realization hit her. Her cloak! It had slipped her worrying mind that she was wearing it. She hardly ever wore the darn thing and if she wore it with the hood up, no one would know it was her! She snapped her fingers in triumph. With a quick ruffle of her hood, she flipped the cloth over her head once again. She was thankful she had snagged it before she left. On the outskirts of the quant city, she stood silently. What had she gotten herself into? Of all the things she could have done, she, for some peculiar reason, decided to do this.

A curt puff of air splashed her fair features as the sunset stained bird flew past her. His gracious wings flapped once, then twice. The small thing was flying away from the city. The hooded girl wondered... what if she turned back, just like her painted friend had done. She was having second thoughts. This was crazy! She was crazy! Yet, her she was, standing on the outskirts of Paris, heading to the mighty cathedral of Notre Dame herself. What was she doing? She pressed her palm to her forehead in annoyance. The flustered woman wished her mind would quiet down for once. Deep breaths flowed out of her in the form of long exhales. She had to go. She was nervous, yes, but she could not, would not turn away. With a tug of her handkerchief, and a huff of her breath, she pushed onward, one small foot in front of the other.

Before she knew it, the openness of the field had faded, and now she was surrounded by more bodies than she could count. This was one of the reasons she never liked coming into the city when it was like this. The trail had now expanded to every corner of ground as she moved through the bustling city. Even in the colder months, Paris was still lively as ever. Even though the anxious woman was sure no one was paying her any mind, she felt as though many eyes were staring at her as she walked. She pulled the cloak around her tighter. All she had to do was make it unseen, and everything would be fine Without her noticing, her pace quickened. She held her head slightly lower than normal. Soon, the tips of the cathedral towers came into her eager sights. Her breath hitched in her throat, though she did not stop walking. The last time she had came here was… was… she could not remember. She was a few paces away from breaking into a run, though she tried to control herself. Her thundering heart pounded in her chest as the excitement coursed through her. The steps. She was right in front of the cathedral steps. Was it too late to turn back? Unfortunately, no. For a moment, her wide eyes gazed at the grey steps of the proud building. She wondered if one the dautning gargoyles watched her from above, assessing why she was here. She could not stand there forever. As much as she would have liked to, people would notice here if she did. The overwhelmed girl recited a quick prayer before making her up the cracked steps swiftly. As she made it to the large entrance, she stopped in hesitation. Her unblinking eyes gazed at the handle she knew she needed to grab. A slight breeze blew past her, the soft fabric of her cloak flowing to the side of her, exposing the bottom half of her dress. Her hand had a mind of its own as she rose it to the door. Slender Fingers curled around the chipped handle.

"I really am a stupid woman." For a second time, the bewildered girl spoke only above a whisper With a firm twist and a push, the massive door creaked open. Through the cracked door, delicate green eyes peered into the darkness. She breathed a heavy sigh as she slipped through the door, and vanished within the darkness. Is it not strange… That day, the trepidatious cloaked woman was the second figure to disappear into the inky darkness of the ajar cathedral doors.


	4. Hello again

The heavy door swung as it creaked closed. A low thud emanated from the old carved wood. Rena was sure she was not followed, at least, hopefully she was not. Her breath was almost caught in her throat at the sight of the immaculate cathedral. Each candle lined the long aisle. The lights from the small fires draped over her form in such a way, she had a hard time not staring at the shadows dancing on the walls. She took a small, hesitant step forward. Her now dark looking hood fell off her head.

"Well, they don't call this the house of God for nothing," Her full marron curls framed her face haphazardly. In the warm candle light, her skin held a sun kissed sort of look. Her hands folded over themselves, pressing into her chest as she walked forward. Each writhing candle passed by slowly as she walked at a slow pace. Everything was absolutely breathtaking to her. The window pains held a slight white glow to them. She asked herself why she had never come here before. She really was a stupid woman at times. She assumed mass had concluded from the sight of no pews being present. The awed girl was never the religious type however, her mother was.

The thought stirred a bittersweet feeling within her. Oh, how her mother would sing beautiful hymns of the lord. The thoughtful girl hardly had any memories of her mother not smiling. A pressure had begun to build behind her shining eyes. She tugged on the handkerchief tied to her small wrist. She had not realized she had made it to the end of the long asil.

She stood before the altar in complete awe, the pressure behind her eyes not forgotten but. it was subsiding. The Virgin Mary sat still in the flaring light as baby Jesus laid in her arms peacefully. Angels surrounded the eternal mother. Each being looked perfect. Their marble skin held no flaw or blemish. She almost forgot they were simply statues created by men themselves.

Deep vibrations suddenly surged the ground as the sound of a fallen object filled her ears. The sound of the said object's fall held a high pitched clattered twang. Rena twirled around as she brought her hands to clasp over her agap mouth, a tiny gasp escaping her. The abrupt noise had ripped her out of her dazed thoughts. Down the aisle was a fallen candle stick, the candles wax had spilled onto the floor. The startled woman would have been worried about the aisle carpet catching on fire but, from what her wide eyes could see, the flame from the fallen candle had been put out somehow. It was most likely from the fall. The frazzled woman was not concerned with it at the moment, but her heart was thundering in her chest.

What had made the once standing candle fall? Or rather… whom? In the far corner of the grand room, she could see a figure shifting oddly in the distance. The figure had not been too far away from the fallen candle. Ok, Rena, do not panic. It is fine. Everything is fine.

Everything was not fine. Why was she here! She should not be here. Ohhhh! Quasimodo's thoughts were swirling and jumbling around his head. Not long before he had came here, he had made his way up the spiral steps up to his home when his damage ears had picked up a small noise. It echoed through the cathedral. He descended back down the marble stairs from his curiosity. He suddenly realized it was not a small noise but rather a voice. A woman's voice.

And like molten lead being poured on him, it hit him. It was her! It was Rena! He would recognize her voice anywhere. Though, he only had one conversation with her but, that was beside the point. Before the woman had time to turn around, the anxious man scurried behind a pillar before her eyes could land on him. He had not felt this nervous since… he would rather not think about it. His mind was racing. A fast hand found its way to his head as he brushed through it nervously. He could not let her see him.

His back was pressed firmly against the tan pillar. He cautiously peered over his shoulder to look behind his only camouflage.

And there she was, standing there against the flame light. Her flowing white dress hit the floor. He noticed how the rose red cloak resting on her slender shoulders framed her perfectly. She looked like she belonged here, like she herself was a work of art. Her eyes were scanning the area in front of her. She must have noticed him. He wished she had not. His eyes flicked to the door to the staircase and unfortunately, she was standing right across from it. He could never slip past without her noticing.

"Is someone there?" The woman questioned into the dark. Quasimodo stiffened at the sound of her voice floating through the air. He did not seem to have any other choice but to answer her. He was terrified. What if she really did not have a good look at him the first time they met? And when she finally does, will she run away out of disgust? Fear? Hate? As much as the terror within him kept rising, no matter how many images he conjured of her running away or scorning him, it did not seem right. He simply could not see her in that light. With a very, very, very deep breath, he slipped away from the safety of the pillar, and into the open space with nowhere to hide.

As he hesitantly slid away from the pillar, Rena's eyes caught his motion.

"Oh! It must've been you who made the noise." Rena looked relieved at knowing who had caused the startling sound as she spoke. Her hands had fallen from her chest and instead rested in between her legs. Quasimodo was still shrouded by the shadows. She did not know it was him just yet.

"Y-yes… I'm s-sorry, I can be clumsy a-at times…" the anxious man wrang his hands, he was thankful he was hidden by the shadows for now.

Rena's eyes widen slightly at the sound of his voice. She recognized it. She wondered if it was him. Quasimodo. It had to be. The man in front of her was a full foot shorter than her and had a slight stutter, most likely from

nervousness. She only knew one man with that height and she had met him this morning. The excitement within her was growing rapidly. But a small pang of hesitation rested within her as well. She did not want to frighten him in anyway so, she would be cautious for now.

"You must be Quasimodo, is that right?" She took a small step forward, her dress swaying ever so slightly. She noticed his shoulders stiffen, but they relaxed soon after.

"Y-yes, that would be my n-name," he was stuttering less now. That had to be a good sign. The flickering of the flames danced around, all except where Quasimodo was standing.

"Well, would you like to come into the light?" She knew what she was asking had to be a lot for him but she would not run away. She simply could not. She wanted to know this man, and to help him in anyway she could. Someone had to make up for a life's worth of hurt and pain. Even if she could not make up for it all, she sure as hell would try.

With a hesitant step forward, his foot slipped into the light, and soon the rest of him followed. The shadows fell away like water over rocks.

And there he stood. His broad shoulders rose higher, his gaze looking to the floor. She realized she had been staring. Goodness, she was being rude. She was the last person to talk about manners but she did not come her to make him feel like some animal at a zoo.

She let a small smile rest on her fare features. "It is wonderful to see you again." She bent over to try and meet his eyes better, but not in a suffocating way. He flicked his eyes up to meet hers, and the sight before him was more than relaxing. She was framed by the candles warmly. Her friendly smile and eyes calmed whatever nerves that were within him prior. He searched her face for any sign of fear or hesitation but, he found none. The last phrase the smiling woman said was swimming though his mind. She really did look like she was happy to see him, and that in it of itself was a foreign thing for him to hear.

"Well, i-it is…" he trailed for a moment, unsure of what to say, for he had hardly ever had this type of interaction with many people, "wonderful to see you a-as well." For lack of a better word, he simply copied her sentence.

Goodness, his heart was racing. Her brilliant green eyes sparkled in the light of the candles around them. He shifted nervously. Then a thought occurred to him, why was she here?

"It is d-definitely nice to see you again b-but," he was unsure whether to ask her or not, he did not want to offend her. A memory of Frollo scorning him for asking "ridiculous" questions flashed through his mind. He had trouble shaking the memories away. "Why are you h-here?"

Rena expression only changed slightly. She straightened her back and folded her hands tighter over themselves, almost as if she were embarrassed.

Well of course he would ask that, what else was she thinking he would say? To be quite honest with herself, she was not sure why she was here. She knew she wanted to see him again after this morning but no other answer would come up. Was it to ask him questions? No. That was the last thing he needed. She thought for a moment. Maybe… she was here to help him, in what way, she did not know. All she knew was she was tired of the way the people of Paris talked of him, as if he were a demon. She returned her gaze back to the man in front of her.

"I myself am not quite sure," her smile returned, "maybe I'm just looking for a friend."

Quasimodo looked a little shocked but less so than he had expected to be. A hesitant smile crossed his features. The candles flickered as the two sat in silence.


End file.
